


Never Marry a Soldier

by Pigeon_theoneandonly



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Disabled Shepard, F/F, Light Angst, Romance, post-ME3, sunshine and rainbows and everyone lived post-destroy ending, what the hell did the geth do for three hundred years anyway?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeon_theoneandonly/pseuds/Pigeon_theoneandonly
Summary: After the Battle for Earth, Samantha Traynor thought her life with Shepard would settle down.  But the galaxy has a few surprises left for them yet...A post-ME3 fic where everyone lived, and there are still wonders to explore unsullied by the reapers.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Samantha Traynor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. The Wedding

After a month of tears and threats, when Samantha Traynor finally left for basic training, her mother hugged her close and whispered in her ear, _“Just never marry a soldier.”_

Now, standing at a wards access just off a newly-planted Presidium park, in shoes too tall and trying not to wobble as her aunts clucked and tugged at her sari, those words echoed. _Never marry a soldier._

_Never marry a soldier_ , because as much as she might love you, she’ll always put her unit first.

_Never marry a soldier,_ because she’ll live at your side in an undercurrent of silence, stuffed full of the things she won’t say, and things she can’t, and the things you can’t understand and she can’t begin to explain.

_Never marry a soldier,_ because she’ll do things that make you pale.

_Never marry a soldier,_ because in the early hours of morning with the entire galaxy resting on her shoulders, she’ll ask you how she could possibly win, and you’ll have to find the answer somewhere inside you.

“Stop fidgeting,” her mother said. “We’ll never get the hem straight.”

Samantha tried to hold herself ramrod still, staring ahead and seeing only that final fight, the last push to Earth, that began with the assault on Cronos Station just after midnight and didn’t end until three days after the Crucible fired, with a desperate, frantic dig through Citadel rubble. Clawing at it until her fingers bled, until she threw aside one last chunk of concrete and saw Jane’s red-striped arm poking through.

_Never marry a soldier,_ because soldiers don’t come home.

Two weeks comatose. Eight major surgeries. More tears of fear and gratitude and just shear weariness than Samantha could count. Six months of rehabilitation and one endless golden moment alone in Shepard’s cabin, when she reached into a drawer and said there was something she forgot to do.

There was a stir from further back in the hallway, and Jane emerged, leaning only a little on Tali. Stunning in a ivory trumpet gown and a gardenia in her red hair. She hadn’t liked short dresses since getting the prosthetic, though she’d never admit it, and so Samantha had gently steered her towards a real wedding dress. Despite her complaints that she didn’t like formality. Despite how she’d thrown herself into every detail with the same aplomb and intensity she gave any of her missions.

Their eyes met. The universe disappeared.

_Never marry a soldier,_ even if everything your mother warned you against made her the greatest woman you’ve ever known.

Her mum waved away the aunts and put a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe, darling.”

She took a single shuddering breath, and tottered towards Jane as fast as four inch heels would allow, tripping at the final step and nearly throwing Jane off-balance. Jane smoothing her hair, just her height in flats. Smirking. “I told you to practice.”

“I did practice.” She pulled at her sari to the distant keening of her aunts, succeeding in only further disarray. “The hotel had a depressurization event so Liara’s looking for emergency quarters. The admiral only just arrived, and I’m sure he hasn’t even glanced at the ceremony script. And I think Chance is dehydrated-—”

Jane took her face gently in both her hands, and silenced her voice and her worries with a single lingering kiss. “You look amazing.”

“It was my grandmother’s. It’s just about all mum got out of the house when they fled.” She swallowed. “I love you.”

Jane rested her forehead against hers, and for a long moment they were the only two people in the world. Then they heard the music start. Up ahead, Cortez set down the puppy, who began trotting up the path just as Samantha had spent the last six weeks training him to do.

Jane offered her arm. “Ready?”

“You have no idea.” She laced their fingers together, blinking rapidly. “Oh, you’re going to ruin my makeup.”

Jane’s laugh filled the garden as they took their first steps into forever.


	2. Domesticity

Jane and Sam sat on their stoop, watching Chance run around the small terrace with the slowly greening Presidium spread out far below. They’d sold the demolished ruin of Anderson’s apartment several months ago, not long before their wedding, and though Sam still missed the hot tub she had to admit this suited them better. The old place felt cavernous and uncomfortably masculine in all its harsh square lines. She reckoned they’d had enough harshness for two lifetimes.

Chance came trotting up, blonde tail wagging, and Jane gently pried the ball from his mouth and tossed it off into the garden, the dog bounding after. “I got a postcard from John today.”

That left her blinking. “A real postcard? With a stamp and everything?” 

“He’s in Tahiti. I think he wanted to rub it in my face.” Jane’s brother might be only twenty minutes younger, but he made that difference stretch for miles in his embrace of the little sibling role, brattiness included. “He also had a bit of news.”

Sam watched Jane pick up her leg and a screwdriver, and resume tinkering. After the better part of a year, it was no longer strange, the sight of it sitting across her lap as familiar as her muttered curses when it wouldn’t cooperate. “What’s he done now?”

She let out a chuckle. “He took Miranda with him.”

“Oh, my god.” Sam couldn’t hold in a laugh herself. “Well, it’s not surprising, seeing how he had his eyes glued to her for our entire reception. Including his toast.”

“I guess I thought Miranda had better taste.” But she said it with a grin. “Auntie Shawn would have a field day.”

Sam glanced at her sidelong, but she kept on tightening up the knee joint as if this were the most casual conversation in the world. That was a good sign. “From what you’ve told me about her, I can’t imagine she would have made much of Miranda. Too posh.”

“John’s exactly like that, though. Snobby.” Jane shook her head. “Hilarious, because he looks exactly like Shawn, but his personality’s all papa’s. No doubt whose sperm made him.”

She bit her lip. Cautious. “How is your dad these days?”

She shrugged. A little less casual there, though she hid it well. “He still misses papa. And Shawn. But he doesn’t talk about wishing he’d been on Arcturus with them anymore, so that’s something.”

Jane never said it aloud, but someone a lot less smart than Sam could tell she’d thought it, probably more than once. Hackett hadn’t known, or at least, Sam had to believe so. She’d been in the comm room while they spoke, messing with the cabling, and just happened to look up as Hackett asked her to investigate the station wreckage. The air went out of Jane like a punch to the gut. Sam froze, torn about whether she ought to leave in the storm of frantic questioning that followed, until the call cut out and Jane slid to the floor with her face in her hands. At that point, the only human thing to do was sit down beside her, and help however she could.

At that point, she thought she’d lost all of them, her fathers, Shawn, her brother. Sam knew too damn well what that was like. Her own family had fled into the wilds of Horizon when Cerberus came, and she’d heard nothing at all until after the war ended. 

Maybe it had finally been long enough. “Does it bother you at all? That our children won’t have an Auntie Shawn?”

Jane actually looked up, all bemusement. “Not in the slightest.”

“She was so involved in your life.” Sam sucked in a breath. “I always assumed, if I had children one day, we would use an anonymous donor. I never counted on being so well-off that I could afford a genemod embryo.”

“Well, I’m open to anything, if that’s what you’d prefer.” Shepard shrugged. “But I don’t know that we’re close enough to any of our male friends to ask that. The three of them were best friends since college, close as family. It was a unique situation.”

Sam frowned, pensive. Jane touched her shoulder. “She wasn’t my mother, Sam. I loved her dearly, but I had two parents.”

“No.” Sam was startled. “It’s not that at all. I just can’t believe we’re sitting here talking about this. I mean, I hoped, during the war, but I never thought we would really…”

She trailed off, her hand going to her mouth. Jane drew her head to her lips, and kissed her hair, her arm settling around her waist. “That’s over. It’s not going to be like that ever again.”

The familiar solidity of Jane pressed to her side had its usual effect. She’d needed it more than she cared to admit, lately. Sam thought she was done with all that once the war ended, once Jane was out of the hospital, but for the past month it seemed to all come pouring out. Jane said it was the first truly stress-free month she’d had in over a year, and that this was normal, her mind and body using the oasis of safety to deal with the things they had put off. 

Sam supposed she’d know, but she didn’t have to like it. So she straightened and swiped at her eyes, reaching for the prosthetic. “Give that here. You’re stripping the screws.”

“You know I’m hopeless with anything mechanical.” She handed it over with a laugh. “It’s why I stuck to physics in school. Engineering requires finesse.”

Sam’s eyes slid to her, the edge of sarcasm a little more like herself. “Not that it’s ever stopped you from putting your fingers in my projects.”

Jane draped her hands over her knees and grinned. “Large tangles of wire are just too tempting.”

“You’re as bad as the dog.”

Right on cue, Chance perked up and came running back, tongue lolling. Jane rubbed his head. “You’re the most helpful good boy, aren’t you?”

He yipped in response. Sam sighed. “I know if he gets into my workroom again, he’s sleeping in the garden tonight.” Then she handed the leg back, adjustments complete. “Here. Let’s go make dinner.”

Jane scrunched up her pant leg and began fitting it back into place. “Were those oranges I saw on the counter?”

“I had to sell a small piece of my soul, but yes. First delivery from Earth to the Citadel in weeks.” Sam helped her to her feet, and they went back inside, the dog running excited circles around their feet.


	3. Jane's Fall

Samantha Traynor came through the hatch, bag of groceries in her arms. Gone were the days of reliable delivery aboard the Citadel; instead, they went down to the ad hoc market that had formed in an old plaza, still awaiting full repair, its shops and restaurants long abandoned. But it came to life every Saturday morning with fresh food from Earth.

“Jane?” she called, struggling in the doorway to tag it shut with her arms full. “Can I get a hand?”

There was no response. The flat wasn’t that large. A trickle of cold percolated her gut, a bodily reaction left over from the war, from every time Jane was on the ground and the radio went silent. “Jane?”

She took a few hesitant steps down the hall. Saw the red stripe of her sweatshirt lying askew around the corner, her hand flaccid and pale. Thirty credits’ worth of oranges splatted on the floor. “Jane!”

Sam ran into the living room. Jane lay still beside the table, a halo of blood puddling through her hair and under her head. She fell to her knees, touched her shoulder, jerked her hand away, afraid to move her even a millimeter. “Oh, god. Oh, shit.”

She jostled her again, a little harder, as hard as she dared. Jane’s eyelids fluttered. “Jane? Jane?”

A faint groan. Sam glanced from her wife to the table corner, sticky and red. _She fell. But she hasn’t been the least unsteady for months…_ No time to think about it now. She leaned down close to her face. “Can you hear me?”

Jane blinked up at her woozily. Slurred, “Sam.”

She could have cried with relief. “Lie still. I’m calling for an ambulance-—”

Jane tried to shake her head. Winced, and shut her eyes again. “Not an emergency.”

“The hell it isn’t.” She opened her omni-tool. Prayed that there would be an ambulance available, because that too was hardly guaranteed, with the Citadel in its current state.

“Just get me to the car.” Jane attempted to push herself up. And failed. And that was scarier than the rest of it put together, Jane, her Jane, unable to rise.

Sam took her hand, blindly, on pure instinct, needing to feel their fingers lock together, tangible. Emergency services finally picked up. “Yes, I need transport-— my wife fell and hit her head.”

* * *

Jane Shepard came round in a hospital room, to the sight of a tall, lean figure perched on the foot of her bed. She sat up a bit. “John? What-—”

A wave of exhaustion crashed over her, muscles giving out like cut puppet strings, and she flopped back onto the pillow. Blinking in surprise.

“Hey, look who’s up.” John slotted the datapad-— her digital chart-— back into its holder on the bedframe.

She touched her head, and found it swathed in gauze. “What are you doing here?”

“That was a fully coherent question. Very good.” He flashed her a smile. It really wasn’t fair; they were siblings enough to have the same bone structure, but what was homely on her was handsome as hell on him. Probably, that prick of irritation indicated a positive prognosis, that she was well enough to be annoyed.

Jane made a second attempt to push herself up, gingerly, with more success. “My head’s killing me.”

“Very funny.” He folded his hands over his knee, looking down at her. “You experienced a linear skull fracture resulting from a mechanical fall and subsequent cranial collision with a table. The primary injury was further complicated by an epidural hematoma. You also presented with a severe laceration, left side of head, treated by suture and bandaging.”

She glared. He did this sort of thing on purpose. “Can I have that in non-doctor-speak?”

“You fell and got a good crack on the head. The hospital stitched you up.”

A pitcher of water sat on the nightstand. She groped for it, oddly challenging. “How long?”

John got up and poured for her. “Better part of a day. You’ve been in and out of things.”

“You shouldn’t have cancelled your vacation for this.” Jane reluctantly allowed him to help her take a sip, then a bigger gulp as the water hit her parched mouth.

“What can I say? Your wife is terrifying when she’s upset.” He set the cup aside. “Miranda convinced her to walk down for a cup of coffee just now.”

Right on cue, the hatch slid open. John glanced back. “She’s awake. For real this time.”

Sam rushed in and seized her in a tight hug, her head buried in her neck. Jane returned it as best she could. “Sam, honey, I can’t breathe-—”

She loosened her grasp marginally. Voice muffled. “I came in and saw you lying in blood.”

“I’m sorry.” An overused phrase in their relationship if ever there was one. 

Samantha sat up, rubbing at her face. The skin around her eyes had gone so dark it was nearly purple. “What happened? I checked your prosthetic after you were admitted, and it didn’t look as if anything had come loose.”

Jane bit her lip. Shifted her eyes to John, who had already read the trace of guilt. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Janey Rose, what are we going to do with you?”

Indignation crowded out embarrassment. “I don’t even like it when dad calls me that.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam looked from one of them to the other and back.

John crossed his arms. “How did you fall?”

She hunched down in the bed. “I was doing a _kata_.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me. Jane-—”

“I modified it,” she protested. “I took one of the simpler patterns and eliminated the kicks and anything else that seemed improbable.”

Not impossible. That wasn’t a word she was willing to start using yet.

Sam’s expression had gone flat. “What is a _kata_?”

John sighed. “You know Jane and I grew up doing martial arts. A _kata_ is a form that lets you practice maneuvers in a pre-defined pattern.” His attention shifted back to his sister. “You’d think I’d be used to your insanity. I’m sorry that your life has changed, but-—”

Samantha took a huge breath. “ _You did this to yourself?!”_

That actually cut off John’s lecture at the root, an unprecedented event. Jane tried to disappear into the bed. Sam wasn’t done. _“Have you lost your mind?”_

“I…” But her wife’s face looked like a thunderhead, and her excuses shriveled before it. A tense silence grew.

John cleared his throat. “We’re just going to step out a moment.”

Belatedly, Jane noticed Miranda standing in the door, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. It occurred to her that she’d never seen Miranda in casual dress. Her eyes narrowed-— wearing, in fact, John’s sweatshirt. Things must be going better than she expected.

Miranda gave them a glance, clearly awkward. “We’ll be just outside. Give a shout if you need us.”

The hatch shut behind the pair. Sam sat ramrod straight, arms crossed. “Well?”

“I’m sorry-—”

“I don’t want your apologies.” She got up and stalked away, staring out the window at the lake below Huerta Memorial, shoulders heaving. From her reflection in the glass, Jane guessed she wasn’t actually seeing much. “I want you to stop pushing yourself until you break for no damn reason.”

She bristled. “You don’t understand.”

“You broke your skull, Jane.” Her voice caught. Her face crumpled.

Jane’s chest tightened. For the first time, she felt a shred of remorse. So she sat up, slowly, and realized as she swung her foot over the bed that her prosthetic was propped in a corner, across the room. “Hey. Come here.”

Sam resisted for a moment, but then returned to the bed, perching on the edge beside her and staring down into her lap. Jane slid her arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She slid her thumb across her eye. Wiping away a tear. “You never do.”

Said with such futility that Jane actually felt a curl of shame. It made her reach for an explanation, a real one, even if she still thought Sam couldn’t possibly understand this. “It’s… hard. I haven’t been able to move since Liberation Day. I’ve got this constant restless soreness that never leaves me alone. My body is used to being used, being active, and no amount of hobbling through a park gives me any relief. I just wanted to move. Just for five minutes.”

Samantha finally looked at her. Tried to speak, with a heartbreak in her eyes. 

Jane wrapped her other arm around her, feeling heartbroken herself, and rocked her softly. Said into her hair, “I am so, so sorry, Sam. Sure, it’s what I always say, but it’s never not sincere. I just don’t know how to…”

“I just want you to tell me, instead of trying to fix everything yourself.” But she returned the hug, burrowing into her shoulder. “I want to hear from you what’s going on in your head, instead of coming home and finding you covered in blood. You don’t know what that costs me.”

Ten months had passed since Liberation. Jane still woke up some nights to an empty bed, and found Sam in the kitchen with a mug of tea, wide awake and more shaken than she’d admit. And though she never said, Jane knew too well that occasionally, it was because of how Sam found her, buried in rubble and mostly dead, that memory coming back in the worst way.

“I love you,” she said aloud, the words feeling insufficient as they left her mouth. “But help isn’t something I’m used to having. It’s taking some time.”

Samantha sniffled once. Sat up a bit and wiped her nose. “Swimming.”

Jane was derailed. “What?”

“And yoga.” A pause. “Something cardio, maybe aerobics. Weightlifting. We can find somewhere to tuck it in the flat if you don’t want to go out, but I hardly expect security will stop you at the navy gym, retired or no.”

She blinked. A foolish feeling crept over her, because she’d been so focused on what she couldn’t do that none of the other possibilities had crossed her mind. “Someday I’m going to remember upfront that you’re so much smarter than me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Sam took her hand. “But by god Jane, you have your blind spots.”

Jane chuckled. She couldn’t help it. And after a moment, Samantha joined in.


	4. Swimming

Jane loved the water gliding over her skin, cool and light. For sure she would never win any prizes for speed or form, but in the buoyancy of the pool, in the rhythm of her laps and frictionless strokes, she could almost forget the amputation. The “almost” being even her stump liked the current swirling around it, just about the only time it didn’t itch.

As per usual, Sam had the best ideas.

Her omni-tool was silenced while she swam. Jane refused to be disturbed within her sanctuary. One silver lining of bearing the legacy of Commander Shepard, Savior of… Everything Really, was a strong learned ability to ignore stares, whether from recognition or because people weren’t accustomed to the sight of a leg that ended before it should. In her lane, she found some measure of peace.

So when she surfaced at the far end of the pool with every intention to turn, and instead saw a pair of running shoes waiting on the deck, she was understandably cross. “What.”

The attendant, a navy contractor doing desk duty at the gym, took a nervous step back at the edge in her tone. “Ma’am, you have a priority comm link waiting.”

She flicked a lock of red hair out of her eyes. At first, she tried a bathing cap, but hated the way it pulled at her scalp. “From?”

“Rannoch, ma’am.”

Shit. Jane rubbed her forehead, and opened her omni-tool. “I’ll take it here.”

“Very good.” He left in some haste, with every sign of relief.

She shook her head, irritated and bemused, and paged to her comm messages. Sure enough, there was a missed link from Tali. She activated it. “This is Shepard.”

An attendant answered. “Hello, Commander. You’ve reached Admiralty HQ. Please stand by.”

Tali may have resigned her commission to the board, but like it or not, she remained one of the most influential of their advisors, particularly when it came to foreign affairs. If the convinced her to leave her cottage and come in person, this must be huge.

A few minutes later, Tali herself came on the link. “Shepard. Thank goodness I reached you.”

Jane shifted, her elbows propped on the deck. Feeling, as she did so often these days, that she about to be asked to perform some task completely outside her present capabilities, and hating both that reality and people’s utter tactlessness in forgetting. “Sure. What’s up?”

“It’s the geth.” Worry in her voice, but also a hint of anger. “We’ve discovered a little more of what they were up to the past three hundred years.”

She straightened in the water. That wasn’t expected. “Like what? No offense Tail, but it’s not like anyone expected they’d been sitting quietly on Rannoch, waiting for the quarians to return—”

“It’s the technology. Shepard, they’ve done things with FTL… well, FTL everything, that I’ve never imagined.” She took a breath. “They’ve done things to the relays.”

Her eyebrows climbed into her hair. “Done things?”

“Modified them. They found a way to… Look, I shouldn’t say, not even over a secure channel. But… Shepard, they’ve also made an FTL telescope.”

And for just a moment, Jane stopped being Commander Shepard, and reverted to that university student who was utterly fascinated by cosmology. Before the attack in the Atacama and resulting shift her ambitions, blessed by a remarkably innocent curiosity. “You’re telling me the geth can see beyond the cosmic event horizon?”

Tali knew then that she had her. The smugness showed. “That is exactly what I’m telling you.”

“But—” Jane floundered. She never floundered. “But that… negates expansion for observational purposes. It could settle questions about accelerating expansion that have gone unresolved for thousands of years.”

“There are some practical limits,” she admitted. “We don’t understand it well yet, but yes, the scientific potential is incredible. This is all coming fast the past few weeks, after… You’ll see. How soon can you get here?”

“I’d like to leave tonight, but it’s going to depend on whether I can call in a favor.” The logistics lined up in her head. “I’m bringing Sam. She won’t want to miss this.”

“I thought she was transferred out of your command.”

In as much as Shepard had a command, these days. “The benefit of marriage to a spectre is all I have to do is say I need her expertise for an assignment, and they’ll let her go.”

Tali laughed. She’d been so serious throughout this call, it was a relief to hear it. “We’re glad to have her. I’ve never met a more competent engineer when it comes to FTL comms.”

“I’ll send our ETA once we’re underway. Shepard out.” She ended the transmission, closed her omni-tool, and kicked off the pool wall back into the water. Geth shenaningans or no, there was enough time to finish her swim.


	5. Back Home

As it turned out, Jane’s little favor was more than willing to make a slight detour to the Citadel and pick them up.

Ash gave her a full-body hug as soon as she cleared the airlock. “Damn, skipper, it is good to see you.”

“I should be calling you that now.” She slid away, not without a smile.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like I asked for it.” Ash rubbed her head, uncustomarily self-conscious. She hadn’t asked— but she sure as hell was not disappointed when Jane recommended her to the post after she retired from the _Normandy_. She turned her attention to Traynor. “Sam.”

They embraced briefly. Sam tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “This feels so strange. I never thought I’d be back here.”

“We’ve missed you,” said Ash, sincerely. “The new kid’s alright. Learning the ropes. But he’s not you.”

“Flatterer.” But Sam looked pleased all the same.

Jane cleared her throat. “I really appreciate this. You just can’t get a flight out to Rannoch, even in the fleet.”

While most forces had dispersed back to their homeworlds after the relays were repaired, the Citadel fleet had been reinvigorated, as bonds forged in war proved difficult to break. And Jane Shepard had a berth on any of them. The quarians, however, had turned inward, focused on rebuilding their civilization.

Ash shrugged. “It’s not a problem. The Council’s asked me to check out a little problem on the outer rim.”

Jane suppressed the twinge of jealousy. She was, technically speaking, still a spectre, her experience valuable even though her body had betrayed her. “You do much work with Kaidan these days?”

“Less than you’d expect.” She sat back on her heel and crossed her arms. “Pretty sure he’s still, uh, acting as the Council’s unofficial line to the Shadow Broker.”

Sam let out a dry _hah_. “He’s got a line into something, alright.”

Jane nudged her. Ash let out a chuckle. “Kind of a shocker when he and Liara turned up together at your wedding. I spent half the reception wringing that story out of him. Apparently, they got together not too long after Liberation Day, it started getting serious, and they realized they’d never actually told any of us.”

“And it was a good excuse, the whole team together in one place for the first time since the war.” Jane shook her head. “Makes sense, though. They’ve been close for years.”

“Liara spent a lot of time with him while you were in the hospital,” Sam volunteered. “His father had just passed away. I think she saw giving him a shoulder as a chance to repay him for consoling her after she lost her mother. And, well, things grew from there.”

“They’re just both so damn private,” Ash griped. “C’mon. Let’s get you squared away.”

Jane shouldered her bag and ambled after her with her usual thumping limp, into the CIC. Sam sighed. “I hope they’ve fixed the water pressure in the ladies’.” 

Ash shook her head. “Nope, but you two get top billing.”

Jane stopped. “I’m not taking your bed, Ash.”

“No offense ma’am, but it’d be just plain weird to have you bunking with the crew. For all of us.” She coughed. “And you do not want to witness what Vega’s done to the X.O.’s quarters. It’s got that bachelor stank.”

Sam wrinkled her nose. “How is that possible? I didn’t think anything could smell worse than that gym of his, in shuttle bay.”

Ash shrugged. “The shuttle bay’s big and open. The X.O.’s cabin is small. And saturated. Believe me.”

They reached the elevator. She tagged the door and stepped aside, offering a salute. Jane tchted. “I’m retired.”

“Be that as it may, ma’am.” Ash held herself at attention.

She rolled her eyes and returned it, before stepping into the elevator. “As you were, marine.”

“Aye aye.” Ash turned neatly on her heel, and went to the galaxy map, as the doors shut.

Jane bit her lip, feeling abruptly very tired. Sam slid her arm around her waist. “It’s strange, being back here.”

“You said it.” She bent, scratching idly at the spot where the prosthetic met her flesh.

Then Sam touched her face. Drawing her eyes to her own. “Nobody can take away what you did on this ship, or the woman it made you. Some turian ships are over three hundred years old. Think about it. Long after we’re both gone, this will still be Commander Shepard’s ship. A coveted posting.”

Her mouth thinned. She pulled away, watching the elevator register its arrival on Deck 1. “I never thought I’d be almost thirty-four and already buried, while I’m still alive.”

The doors opened. Sam took her hand and drew her out onto the utilitarian foyer. “Enough is enough.”

“I don’t—”

She rose up on her toes and kissed her, drawing her fingers through her hair, forcing Shepard to drop the bag. Not that she minded much. Her hands found her waist. It might have been a minute or an hour later when Sam drew back, cupping her face and looking her in the eye. “Jane Shepard, you have your entire life before you. You’re a woman with all the choices in the world and you’re acting like you’ve been backed into a corner, because one of those endless doors closed.”

Shepard started to look away, but Sam turned her face back, refusing to let it go. “And I’ll be there, every step, whatever you decide. But I won’t watch you waste away moping. I won’t have it. Are we clear?”

For a long moment they stood like that, fierce brown eyes boring into stubborn green. Then Shepard took a step forward, maneuvering Sam back into the bulkhead, and lavished a kiss on her neck. “I love you, you know that?”

Her eyes fluttered shut. In a slightly strangled tone, she managed, “I am not explaining to Ashley why we had to wash her sheets.”

Shepard mumbled into her collarbone. “That’s what the shower’s for.”


End file.
